CHAPTER 8
Spencer Cowley sat in the conservatory of his home, staring at the empty birdcage, hanging from a hook near the garden exit. His mind went back five years when he had a bird in that cage. It was a beautiful creature with shiny yellow and rust feathers. He would every day bring to that bird, seeds, nuts, worms, bugs, and all the good things he felt a bird could ever desire. And for him, this bird would sing and twitter beautifully; gratefully.
One day, Spencer thought to give the happy bird a little bit more roaming space, and so he took the cage outside and flung open its gate. The little bird first appeared at a loss, like he didn’t trust Spencer’s motive. It hopped toward the open gate, and there it stood for a long while contemplating the wide expanse of freedom that had sud
